Suburb Sisters.
white fences and lace trims,
perfect green lawns and ditsy floral curtains,
hide the tattered nightgowns and decaying dolls inside.
a gentle ghost in their friends or parents eyes,
their only means for existence being the pack of boys and their wolf cries,
as they circle this purgatory of purity, fantasising and awaiting their feast.
beneath the crooked crucifix, the four blonde sisters cling to each other,
knowing it's the only way to escape their mother's rosary wrath,
they know there is a place where they can forever be a teenage girl,
in an unknown but nevertheless better world.
lux opens the doors to the prim and proper predators,
and the suburban sisters start their dance with death.
a sleeping pill and water carafe, a clumsy knot, and the click of an oven dial,
the girls succumb to the sleepy siren call.
and when the wolves finally see, they run,
not out of fear or grief,
but bitter with the loss of the dreamy sisters they couldn't claim,
death providing solace for the idle maiden again.
This poem was submitted to the White Lily Society for the limited time submission prompt “Death and the Maiden (II)”
Amelia E., 23yo, London // @ ameliaa.ela on instagram // A couple poems published in digital magazines, but most hidden in her notes folder.
Come, join the White Lily Society, and become a martyr of deliciousness. Want to submit your own work to the White Lily Society? Look no further!